To the listeners,

In a world of speakers and listeners, I have always been a listener.

In grade school when faced with the option of becoming louder or quiet, I became quiet.

My voice was small and not always resilient. Much to my dismay, this did not change as I became an adult. I found myself surrounded by speakers. These individuals were proudly cold and often brutally honest. With confidence, they told me who I was and how I should feel. I believed them.

I accepted my role as a listener. I even strived for a career that would allow me to tell the stories of speakers.

Society had told me that I and other listeners had nothing valuable to say and that being heard was reserved for a special few.

This is bullshit.

I want to hear the stories of listeners.

The memorable words and stories of my life have not come from the mouths of speakers, but the mouths of listeners. The words living in my heart were offered to me from the smallest of voices, my grandmother, poor girls in India, and the tuk-tuk driver that taught me the value of a dollar.

Yes, speakers will give you all of the reasons to believe that their words are more valuable and deserving of space, but they are wrong.

Listeners, you own stories of resiliency and the beauty of human nature. The way you speak is relatable enough to move souls.

Though your voice is not like the roar of a lion your words puncture and take hold like a snake.

Save the autobiographies of famous people whose money bought them the privilege of being speakers and give me the stories of listeners.